


Weekly Berena Fix

by LittleMissO



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2019-10-08 20:40:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17393339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissO/pseuds/LittleMissO
Summary: Technically this follows on from Snuggles, but it can also (I hope) be read as a stand alone





	1. Snuggles

When the weather forecasters had said to expect Arctic conditions in the next few days they hadn't been kidding. The chill in the wind was so pervasive and strong it felt almost as if it was an independent entity. Fortunately Serena had finished her shift and got herself safely home before the temperature plummeted too far.

She has decided to take advantage of being in the house alone and is curled up on the sofa with a steaming mug of hot strong coffee. Deciding she is worth it, she has lit the fire - a rare luxury - and has bundled herself up in a blanket and snuggled into a hoodie.

If she's honest the hoodie is just slightly too small for her. If she'd brought it for herself she would have chosen the next size up, preferring a slightly looser fit. The hoodie isn't hers though, and she's not wearing it for the fit. 

The hoodie belonged to Bernie and Serena is wearing it because it still smells of Bernie - her perfume, hints of her shampoo and something that is just 'Bernie'. If she uses a little imagination the slightly tight fit feels like being enveloped by Bernie, held in a gentle snuggle. Soft, warm, comforting, safe.

Serena misses Bernie. Misses her terribly. Feels every moment of their separation. Wearing the hoodie, even just holding the hoodie makes her feel grounded, makes her feel closer to Bernie. She has never told Bernie that she has her hoodie, Bernie has never asked. She thinks that Bernie either knows she has it and chosen to say nothing, or believes she lost it somewhere between Holby and the NTC

Serena stares into the dancing flames of the fire and memories swirl around in her head like the tongues of fire lick at the logs.

She remembered the first time she had seen Bernie in her hoodie, sat outside the hospital entrance, looking so lost as she tried to find her way in the strange new civilian world of the NHS, family expectations and work life imbalance that she had been blown into. Arms wrapped around her waist in a parody of a hug, she had grabbed at Serena's friendly overture and let go of some of the weight she was carrying on her shoulders. In return Serena had offered understanding, recognition of at least part of her struggle, and the promise of coffee in the future. Bernie's rapid departure back to her patient on Keller had done nothing to diminish Serena's feeling that she might, at long last, have a colleague who could turn out to be the ally in the fight against the middle aged white male surgeons club she has been looking for.

Her mind jumps to how vulnerable Bernie had looked the day Marcus had turned up at Holby and stolen her Operating Theatre. How swamped she had looked in the hoodie, stood outside the hospital doors: coffee clutched in one hand as if for dear life, held close to her body, unlit cigarette in the other. She recalled just how much she had wanted to make the day, the situation easier for her.

 

Bernie had been wearing her hoodie on the roof the day the Trauma Unit opened, the day Jason almost got arrested, the day she had come so close to buckling under the pressure. The same day that Marcus had started playing hardball with Bernie's divorce. The day that Bernie put all that to one side to take Serena to the roof and make her feel better. Her hoodie wrapped like her like a cloak of wisdom as she cut through Serena's angst to the heart of her problem, saw clearly what Serena couldn't; that she needed to identity her priorities and focus on them. The genuineness of her 'Your very welcome' had stayed with Serena ever since. 

That wasn't the only time Bernie had made an appearance on the roof in her hoodie. Serena could remember, though she'd really rather not, the look of horror mingled with relief when, after bursting through the roof door she had seen that Serena was guzzling Shiraz rather than being in the process of throwing herself off the roof. And later, sat side by side on deckchairs in the freezing cold, she remembered the soft feel of the sleeve of the hoodie against her hand as Bernie clutched it. Remembered too the softness of Bernie's voice as she'd sought to comfort and understand, to maintain that stiff upper lip lest both of them crumble with the pain. It was odd, she thought, that the rooftop separation should have left her in so much pain, but watching Bernie winking at the door; leaving Albie's, leaving her, had left her numb.

It was strange, thought Serena, how a hoodie could feature in so much of a relationship. Be so symbolic. Be so Bernie. She missed her; her absence was like a physical presence. Serena snuggled deeper into the hoodie, still unable to believe that she had been foolish and reckless enough to let the one great love affair of her life leave when she had been so willing, so ready to do anything, to make them work.

The sound of a key in the door disturbs Serena's musings. In a practiced maneuver she whips the hoodie off, over her head, and thrusts it under the pillow on the sofa. She sits back down in her original position just in time to see the tall, slender, messy haired blonde enter the room.

 

"You're home late darling." Serena says as Bernie crosses the room and plants a kiss on her waiting lips. The tension Serena releases at Bernie's return is evident in her voice. Bernie may only have been gone for the few hours her locum shift had lasted, but Serena had missed her presence every second, and counted every minute until she got home. She was still not quite able to stifle the sense of relief she felt every time Bernie came back to her, not after everything that had happened.

"Umm. There was a last minute trauma. Took a bit longer than expected in theatre. Why? Did you miss me?"

"Always." Serena responds, pulling Bernie down onto the sofa next to her and winds her arms around her until they are in a full on snuggle.

"You do know that I'll always come back to you." says Bernie, aware that Serena has not yet truly forgiven herself for letting her walk out of Albie's door on Jason's wedding day, for the whole ridiculous bins and slippers rationale for why they should call time on their relationship. Bernie had known that it wouldn't be long before Serena realised that breaking up wasn't what either of them wanted. And she had been proved right when Serena had phoned her full of apologies less than a week later, and had been delighted to discover that Bernie had not returned to Nairobi at all, but was still in Holby. I wasn't going to let you go without a fight, she had told Serena when she had asked why she'd stayed. I was hoping that once you'd had time to think, to process everything, that you'd decide that we deserved to give "us" the best shot we could.

"I do." said Serena contentedly. Bernie smiled and ran her hands soothingly along Serena's back as she snuggled close. As she did her hand brushed against soft material peeking out from behind the cushion. A wry smile flitted across Bernie's face. She knew, had known since it first went missing, that Serena had claimed her Holby hoodie. Serena had never mentioned it, so Bernie hadn't either, content knowing that Serena derived comfort from it. it was almost, Bernie thought, as if the her hoodie could snuggle Serena for her whenever she wasn't there.


	2. Scars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this follows on from Snuggles, but it can also (I hope) be read as a stand alone

Bernie snuggled in closer to Serena on the sofa, placing a gentle kiss on her lips, and rubbing her nose softly against her partners, earning herself a squeal.

"Your nose is like a shard of ice." Serena exclaims in mock distress.

"Well, in case you hadn't noticed it's freezing out there - below freezing in fact. Some of us have had to battle our way home through it. We've not all been sitting in front of a blazing fire wrapped in a cosy blanket." Bernie retorts in fake indignation.

"I'll just have to see what I can do to warm you up." Serena counters. "We could start with a hot chocolate?"

"That would be nice." Bernie answers with a smile as Serena gets up from the sofa and heads to the kitchen, pausing only to put another couple of logs on the fire as she passes. Bernie leans forward and reaches under the sofa for the sheepskin slippers she keeps there and slips them onto her cold feet. Making herself comfortable at what has become her end of the sofa, she pulls the blanket Serena had been wrapped in around herself, settles against the backrest, and starts the slow process of warming herself through. The cold seems to have seeped it's way into the marrow of her bones.

It's not long before Serena is back bearing two blissfully hot mugs of hot chocolate. Bernie can see that she has gone all out to make it special - the cream, mini marshmallows, and caramel sauce drizzled on the top are something of a give away. Bernie sips the decadent concoction and feels the warmth of the rum Serena has added hit the back of her throat. A contented 'umm' of appreciation escapes from her lips and she sinks further back into the soft cushions of the sofa and opens her arms in an invitation for Serena to join her.

Serena doesn't need asking twice, and it's not long before settled back against Bernie, encircled by her strong arms and bundled under the soft blanket. For a while it's all either of them need; being together, curled up into each other, the comfortable, companionable silence between them, thoughts drifting as they watch the flames flicker.

Bernie is firmly ensconced in the corner of the sofa, Serena is leant up against her, her body angled away down the length of the cushions. Bernie can't actually see Serena's face in this position, and so the first indication she gets that something is wrong is a sudden, sharp, rise in Serena's chest followed by a deep and controlled exhalation. She starts getting concerned when it happens twice more. When she feels a splash of water on the arm she has wrapped round Serena she takes Serena's mug from her hands, places it with hers on the coffee table, puts both her arms to to task of holding her partner close and says softly,  
"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Serena briefly considers saying nothing, hiding behind a denial, but realises almost at once that it's not going to work on Bernie. Besides, when they had realised that they didn't want to be apart, they had agreed that, if their relationship was going to work they needed to talk more - be honest with each other. So, she decides that discretion is the greater part of valour, and tries,  
"It's nothing, really. I just can't believe that you still want to be here, still want to be with me, after everything I did."

"Serena .." Bernie manages, before she is cut off.

"Don't." Serena says, trying to control her voice. "Don't be nice to me. I don't deserve it after what I did, to you, to us. I tore us apart, I sent you away. I hurt you, really hurt you, and I just don't know why you still want to be here, with me." Her voice tails off as she teeters on the brink of losing control. Bernie says nothing, allowing Serena a few moments to regain control. Almost idly she soothes Serena's shoulders, gently pushing aside the wide neckline of the loose jumper Serena is wearing until her hands are stroking the scars on the back of Serena's shoulders. Her focus changing as she finds them under the soft wool and her hands tracing and exploring.

"They must have hurt." says Bernie, in a voice full of feigned indifference.

"Umm." replies Serena, not quite trusting herself to speak yet. 

"I love them." Bernie continues. "They remind me how much you can love, how brave you are, how much you care. They tell me how much you will do for those that you love. Most of all they tell me how strong and brave you are."

"They're ugly." Serena exclaims. Bernie's hands stop exploring her shoulders gently and instead grip her firmly and turn her so they are facing each other fully. Moving her hands to her shirt Bernie swiftly undoes the top three buttons. She pushes the fabric aside, exposing her smooth white satin bra, and the, almost but not quite, silvery scar that disects her chest. Taking Serena's hand she presses it flat against the line on her torso, holding it there with her own hand.

"Is this ugly?" she asks Serena softly.

"No!" Serena spits out, as though the very notion was offensive. "Of course not. It reminds me how brave you are, how lucky I am that I got to meet you."

"They're part of me. Part of my story. Part of who I am. The same as yours. They're proof that we can be hurt, and that we can mend. Can come out the other side, stronger, better."

Bernie feels Serena's fingers flutter against her scar, almost as if she's testing what Bernie has said, grounding herself in the physical reality Bernie is talking about.

"You hurt me Serena, I can't pretend that you didn't. I know that I hurt you too. I wasn't there for you the way that you wanted me to be, that you needed me to be. We've both of us wounded our relationship. It's going to take time and care to mend it. When we do - because we will, I promise you we will - there will be a scar, just like the ones on our bodies. There'll be more pain, it'll be tender and raw for a while, but, eventually it will heal and the scar will fade. What has happened will become part of our story, part of what makes us 'us', part of what makes us strong. The scar will tell part of our story, but it won't define us, in the same way the scars on our bodies don't define us."

Serena looks contemplatively into her partners eyes, as if searching for something. After a long moment she seems satisfied by what she sees and says.

"You really mean that, don't you?"

"Yes, Serena, I really do." Bernie says simply and looks back at Serena, sees the hope in her eyes and the glistening precursor of tears. Her hand is still splayed out on Bernie's chest, still covered with Bernie's own

"And Leah, the whole thing, I'll never do anything like that again."

"I don't plan on leaving you again, so I hope that you never feel that you need to. And if you do, well, I'll be here and we can talk before anything happens."

Bernie smiles at Serena and Serena smiles back. She knows that it's going to take time to mend their relationship. It's never going to go back to the way it was before, well, before everything, but for the first time Serena really feels that they will make it. They will mend. And, just like a scar binds together two pieces of skin more strongly than before, the scar in their relationship will bind them even closer together. And with this thought spinning through her mind she curls back up against Bernie, resting her head on top of their joint hands over Bernie's mended heart.


	3. Jealousy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, turns out this one follows on from Snuggles and Scar too. Hopefully it works as a stand alone too.

Bernie runs her hand lazily up and down her partner's back, enjoying the way Serena is relaxing into her. It feels so good, and so right, for her to be here holding Serena like this. It always had and it always would she thought. Throughout all that their separations (and there had been far too many for Bernie's liking) it had been the gentle moments of just being together, being there with and for each other, that she's missed the most. It's these that had left the biggest hole. She's missed other things as well, of course she has, but it turns out that even the most mundane and domestic of activities can be improved if she's doing them with Serena. 

Bernie looks down at Serena fondly, runs her fingers through short soft hair and says idly,  
"I never thought I'd be the jealous type, but you seem to bring it out in me." As soon as she says it she realises that it was a mistake. Serena tenses in her arms and her head jerks up so she can meet Bernie's eyes.

"You've no need to be jealous of Leah, it was a mistake, a terrible mistake. It's not one I'll be repeating. What I have with you, what we could have, is not something worth risking for a sordid one night stand."

"It's not the fact that you slept with her that's making me jealous." says Bernie. Serena raises an eyebrow signifying her disbelief. "Ok, fine." replies Bernie "I am jealous that she slept with you, but that's not what i'm really jealous about, what's eating me up inside."

"I'm not sure I understand" Serena replies, confused. 

Bernie takes a deep breath before replying.  
"I'm jealous because she was here with you, and I wasn't. I'm jealous because she got to talk to you, to see you, everyday, and I didn't. I'm jealous because you could talk to her about your patients and what was happening on the ward; she knew because she was there, and I didn't because I wasn't. I'm jealous because it was her you were smiling at, her you were sharing moments with, touching in passing, and not me. It was her you went out and celebrated your birthday with, and all I could manage was a bunch of damaged flowers.

"Bernie, it wasn't like that, it really wasn't. I never went looking, she was just there. She could never take your place. She could never be you. It's you that I love, that I want..." Serena tails off, not sure what else she can say to make this better.

"Do you know what the very worst thing is? That it's partly my fault."

"Do you know how ridiculous that notion is? I'm mortified to think that you blame yourself for any part of my mistake." 

"But I do." says Bernie sadly. "I do. I let you go back to Holby and face all those demons on your own. I should have realised how hard it would be for you. I pushed you to come back to Nairobi with me when it was clear that you needed to be with your family. All I could see was that Nairobi was what we had both agreed we wanted, I couldn't see the situation had changed. Worst of all, when you got overwhelmed with things, I went AWOL all for the sake of a surprise. I know I'm lousy at keeping in touch, but I should have made an effort to be there for you, to support you, but I didn't. I got it so wrong. I made you feel that I didn't want you, didn't care - and that is so far from the truth. Leah gave you everything that I didn't: time, attention. She wanted you and she made sure that you knew it, made you feel valued and desired. I didn't, and that makes me so very jealous." 

"Oh Bernie, don't. It wasn't you, it was me. I was the one who messed up. The one who put everything we had at risk. You didn't..."

"But I did Serena. I didn't make time for us, time to be there for you. I stopped showing you, telling you, how much I wanted you in my life, how much I loved you, how much you meant to me, how very much I care. Instead Leah was there doing that. I deserve to be jealous." Bernie stops, for now all talked out. Serena takes a moment to process all that Bernie has said, the wonderful woman who, even now, is holding her tightly and trying to shoulder more of the blame for what happened than she should. Serena knows that she's far more to blame than Bernie can ever be. That she should have been stronger, more resilient than she had been.   
She wants to do something, anything, to start to redress that balance, salve some of that pain she has caused. Bernie's always been more about action than about words. Maybe, thinks Serena, she needs to speak her language. A spark of an idea begins to form. She sits up, looks carefully at Bernie and says,

"Maybe you should get jealous, good and jealous, here and now, where it might do some good." It's a risk, they've only been back together two weeks and they've been taking it slowly. The physical side of their relationship has very much been on hold. Oh, they cuddle, they share a bed, they kiss, but it's barely one step up from platonic. They've been learning to trust again, to navigate the new shape of their relationship. Maybe, Serena thinks, it's time that changed.

Bernie looks confused, unsure what Serena is suggesting, but there's something in the way her eyes darken that makes Serena feel she might be on the right track. 

"Show me." she says, "Show me how much you missed me, how much you wanted me. Show me how your jealousy could have done some good."

Serena can almost see the realisation of what she is asking flare in Bernie's darkening eyes. She just has time to think that she might have called this right before Bernie's lips meet hers. It's a gentle kiss, questioning, unsure, but for all that there's an intensity there. An intensity that there hasn't been in any of the chaste kisses of the last couple of weeks. It's enough to cause Serena to let out a gentle sigh. As her lips part slightly Bernie takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss, and Serena responds enthusiastically, her hands tangling in blonde hair as she finds herself being pushed firmly but carefully back against the sofa. As Bernie lays herself along the length of her Serena feels the curves and softness she's missed, that she's been aching for. She reaches out her hand runs it along Bernies' back and tries to slip it under the hem of her loosened blouse, but is stopped when Bernie's hand clasps hers.

"No. Not this time." Bernie says, barely moving her lips from Serena's mouth as she moves her hands so they fall back over her head. "You wanted me to show you, so that's exactly what I'm going to do." Her eyes are determined, and Serena acquiesces readily. She realises that giving Bernie agency and control here is exactly what she needs, is what she has denied her in all that has happened. Then she stops thinking and starts feeling as Bernie moves her hand under Serena's jumper, stroking the dips and curves of her stomach.  
"I love your curves." says Bernie in a low whisper that barely reaches Serena's ears. "So soft, so inviting, so womanly." Her hand moves higher under the jumper until it's brushing over the lace cups of Serena's bra.  
"I've dreamt about these, your breasts, how they overflow from my hands when I hold them, how sensitive they are, how hard your nipples get when I touch them." As if to emphasise her words she brushes a thumb across tip of a nipple eliciting a hitched breath from Serena that goes right through Bernie. 

Deciding that it's not enough, she needs more, Bernie places one leg over Serena's hips, moves the other to counterbalance it, and kneels up so she is straddling Serena. Leaning forward she takes the hem of Serena's jumper and tugs it upward. Serena arches her back and allows Bernie to pull the garment over her head and off. She can feel Bernie's gaze on her, drinking her in.  
"Exquisite" Bernie pronounces as she makes short work of undoing the remaining buttons of her own shirt. Leaving the two sides of the garment hanging loosely from her shoulders, she leans forward over Serena pushing their lips together and slipping her tongue into Serena's mouth. I've missed this, Serena thinks as sinks into the kiss, missed this so much. Before she has the time to savour the kiss the way she wants to Bernie has broken it off, has moved back and has started retracing the path her fingers took earlier with her lips and tongue. She's slow, teasing and achingly thorough and she whispers enderments and protestations of love into Serena's skin. By the time Bernie has made way to the lace edges of her bra, and started to kiss and nip and the delicate skin there, Serena thinks she might explode with pleasure. When Bernie's tongue mimics the gentle swipe her thumb had made over her nipple earlier, Serena begins to think that maybe she has exploded already.

Bernie reaches for Serena's mouth again, laying the top half of herself flush against Serena, skin against skin Without consciously realising what she is doing Serena slips her hands beneath Bernie's open blouse and fumbles with the clasp of her bra. All she is aware of is how good Bernie's skin feels against hers, and how it's not enough. She wants, no needs, more. Then she's aware of Bernie's hand firmly moving hers back to her sides.

"I want, I need..." Serena starts, but she stops as Bernie says soothingly.  
"Later, darling, I promise."

 

With a final, bruising kiss, Bernie extracts herself from Serena and the sofa in one fluid movement.

"What? Why?" says Serena in confusion, not knowing what, if anything, she might have done wrong.

"Upstairs." Bernie all but growls, her eyes pin pricks. Serena doesn't think she's ever moved faster in her life.


	4. Barns and Recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to LipstickLovingSaphic for all the cheerleading and her belief that I could get this to work.

Serena isn't asleep. She isn't awake either. She's in that 'in between' stage. Her eyes are shut and her breathing is calm and relaxed. She's slowly becoming more and and more aware of her surroundings as her brain starts kicking into gear after what has obviously been a deep and refreshing sleep. Her body takes a little longer to get the message and she lays there a few moments longer in the warm comfy cocoon of her bed before the urge to stretch her sleep heavy body and work out some of the kinks it has collected overnight becomes overwhelming. As she stretches out she becomes aware aches and pain in her muscles, which she can't quite find a suitable explanation for, until memories of the previous night come flooding back. 'Oh" she thinks, 'that would explain it". 

She feels the tender patch on her back and remembers Bernie pushing her up against the bedroom door, neither of them noticing at the time she had struck her back on the door handle. Bernie had been too engrossed in removing Serena's remaining clothes, and Serena too engrossed in letting her, for either of them to register much else.

She feels the strained muscles in her arms and remembers Bernie taking her hands and placing them above her head so she had free access to Serena's body. Remembers Bernie making full use of that freedom, exploring her with fingers, lips and tongue. Remembers how she had clutched the bars of the headboard tight as she struggled to overcome her urge to reach for Bernie and reciprocate.

She feels her nipples, suprisingly tender and overly sensitive, brush against the duvet pulled round her. She remembers how Bernie had lavished attention on them, had teased, licked, tugged and sucked, and made them painfully tight. 

She feels the finger marks branded on her upper thighs, and remembers Bernie's hands digging in to hold her steady. Holding her in place as her body contorted with pleasure, responding to Bernie's tongue and lips working between her thighs. 

She feels her swollen and bruised lips and remembers Bernie kissing them; slowly and gently, fast and hard, passionately and tenderly - and everything inbetween.

Serena wonders briefly why she appears to have slept, unusually for her, naked. Then she remembers how Bernie, having finally finished showing Serena exactly how much good her jealousy could do, had, at long last - gloriously - given Serena her chance to respond. And respond she had. When, finally, exhaustion had overcome both of them they had sunk into sleep tangled together. Neither of them had given any thought to nightwear.

 

Serena smiles to herself at the memories, opens her eyes and is greeted by the sight of Bernie propped up on her pillows against the headboard. Her face is luminous in the light of her phone, framed by a sleep tousled, messy mop of blonde hair. The duvet is pooled around her hips, leaving her chest exposed. Serena's view of her breasts is only obstructed by the angle at which her arms are placed to hold her phone. She looks, Serena thinks, ethereal, as she rolls over to face Bernie and props herself up on her elbows and looks her fill.

"Morning" she says smiling at Bernie.

"Morning" Bernie says, barely looking up from her phone. After the previous night it hadn't been the response that Serena had been hoping for. Reaching over to rest her hand on Bernie's waist, just above the spot where the edges of the duvet have settled, she tries again. 

"Any plans for today?" she asks.

"I'm covering a half shift at St James', nothing special." Bernie replies as her fingers tap and swipe on her phone screen. 

"I've got a couple of hours before my shift starts. Coffee?" says Serena brightly.

"Umm" responds Bernie absent mindedly as Serena slips out of bed, into her dressing gown, and heads off towards the kitchen.

Five minutes later the coffee machine is working it's magic, and Serena is left with nothing to do but wait and think. Her mind replays and turns over the less than enthusiastic good morning from Bernie. She'd thought that things between them were getting better, that they were getting closer again. Now she wasn't sure what to think; Bernie's attitude this morning had hardly screamed freshly reconciled lover. She'd been far too distracted. Serena idly wondered what it had been on the phone that had held her partners attention. Perhaps, she thought, she'd pushed too far last night. Perhaps Bernie hadn't been ready for it, perhaps they hadn't been ready for it. Serena can feel the fear that she'd messed things up again rise within her chest. Taking a deep breath she tries to calm it with logic. She certainly didn't regret last night. Bernie certainly seemed to have enjoyed it, she hadn't complained at the time. There were myriad logical explanations for Bernie being distracted this morning, none of which had anything to do with her. 

Whilst the battle between cool logic on the one side, and her guilt and feelings of unworthiness on the other raged in Serena's head, the coffee machine dripped and steamed its way through its task. With a final belch of hot liquid the coffees were ready and Serena's excuse for absenting herself from the bedroom ended.

When Serena returns to the bedroom, strong and hot coffees in hand, Bernie is still fully engrossed in her phone. It looks like she's barely moved. Serena pops Bernie's steaming mug on her bedside table. Bernie offers a mumbled 'thanks' and the briefest of smiles before her attention turns back to her screen. Serena walks round to her side of the bed and perches herself on the edge. This isn't like Bernie. Something's not right, and at this very moment Serena fears it may be her. Screwing up her courage she says,

"Shall I leave you to it then?' She now seems to have Bernie's full attention.

"What? Why would you.." Bernie starts. She takes a deep breath and continues "Serena, why do you think I want you to go anywhere? 

"You've been a bit distracted this morning. I thought maybe, after last night, you thought we'd gone a bit too far, a bit too fast." Serena shrugs. "I thought, perhaps you might have changed your mind, wanted some space." 

"I don't regret last night at all. Do you?"

"No, it's just..."

"Just nothing. I haven't changed my mind in the slightest. And the last thing I want is space from you. I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime." Bernie opens her arms and holds them out to Serena and says "come here."

Serena deposits her coffee on her bedside table, climbs onto the bed and into Bernie's waiting arms.

"I want you. All of you, all of the time. That's not going to change. I'm going to keep telling you that until you believe me." Bernie curls her arm round Serena as she says this and draws her close. "As for being distracted, why don't you take a look for yourself at what was holding my attention?" Bernie passes her phone to Serena, Serena looks at the screen, and then back at Bernie confused.

"It's a barn." Serena notes, still none the wiser as to why her partner should be so engrossed by it, and bereft of any more fitting comment to pass.

"Not just any barn," Bernie says smiling. "It's a luxury barn conversion. It's got a four poster bed, a snug with a log burning fire, a jacuzzi bath, hot tub and an aga. It's totally secluded, totally private, and it's an hour away from here."

"Well, yes, it sounds lovely, but I'm still not sure why you've been so absorbed by it?"

"It's a holiday rental, and seeing as we've both got the weekend off, I've booked it for us. We can head down after you finish work tonight."

"Wow, that's wonderful, but I'm not sure exactly why?" asks Serena, tenatively.

"Because I think we need some time together, just the two of us. It's been far, far too long since it's been just us with no distractions. We need time and space together, to talk, just to be with each other - without the hospital, friends or family interrupting."

"We are Ok though, aren't we?" Serena asks, still unable to fully believe that, despite everything that had happened, everything that she had done, Bernie was still here and they were still together.

"Of course we are. Or we will be. We, our relationship, has had a major trauma. We've got through the worst of it; through the surgery if you like. Now we need time to heal and recover, and we need to do that by ourselves. Think of our relationship as being in the recovery room. With time, care and attention everything will be fine."

"That's a hell of a metaphor darling. Maybe you shouldn't push it any further." says Serena with a smile, feeling reassured. 

"You know I'm not the best with words." Bernie replies with a smile. "You're lucky I'm talking at all before coffee."

"Fair point." concedes Serena, as Bernie practically inhales her coffee. 

Coffee all but finished, Bernie places the mug back on her bedside table and turns to look at Serena. This time her focus couldn't be more intense.

"I think," she starts as she draws patterns with her finger on the top of the V shaped expanse of chest Serena's silken dressing gown is leaving exposed. "I must have failed last night."   
Her finger starts to move lower.   
"I distinctly recall attempting to show you exactly how much I wanted you. It doesn't seem as if I got my message through."   
Her finger, joined by the rest of her hand as she worked her way down, was now toying with the loosely knotted dressing gown belt.   
"Should I have another go at making my point?" 

The way Bernie is looking at her is electrifying. Serena's mind runs through the catalogue of aches, pains and soreness last night had left her with, returns Bernie's look and says

"I think that would be wise." 

As soon as the words are out Bernie pulls on the knot and Serena's dressing gown pools at her sides. Bernie lets out a moan of pleasure as she moves to lay herself on top of her partner, leaving Serena's thoughts on a very different kind of ache altogether.


	5. DIY

Serena doesn’t hear the office door opening. She doesn’t see Bernie making her way over to the desk. She’s so engrossed in the patient file in front of her that she doesn’t even notice her partner standing behind her. So when Bernie leans forward to drop a kiss on top of her head she jumps. She jumps so high that her knees bang against the underside of her desk. The resulting jolt passes through the length of the desktop and causes the spanner, which had been resting precariously balanced on the edge of the desk, to finally give up it’s tentative grip and topple over – and land heavily on Serena’s thigh. As Serena yelps at the impact her chair (fully height adjustable) adds insult to injury and gracefully sinks down to its’ lowest level, taking Serena (and as much dignity as she can muster) with it.

Bernie makes a not entirely successful attempt to stifle a snort and is treated to a scathing look from Serena.  
“Sorry.” says Bernie, contrite, but relieved to see that there is still tenderness in her partners eyes. “Are you OK?” she asks as Serena rubs the spot on her thigh where spanner had landed.

“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I’ll probably have a bruise, just..., just, It’s nothing. Busy day.” replies Serena with a self depreciating half smile.

Bernie sinks down onto the edge of the sofa, leans forward and reaches for Serena’s hands which are now resting on her lap. She doesn’t take them, but gently flutters her finger tips against Serena’s in a questioning invitation. Serena’s hands instinctively wrap themselves around Bernie’s.

“Serena. This is me. Whatever it is, you don’t have to do it yourself. I’m here.” Bernie says earnestly, searching Serena’s face. Serena smiles gratefully at Bernie.

“It’s been a long day.” She says ruefully. “Hanssen wants to see me ‘as soon as convenient’. Jason has been phoning, he’s worrying about Guinevere, and I haven’t had a chance to call him back. There are four patients waiting for discharge and Ric has gone AWOL- leaving me to try and work out what tests bed five needs and, to top it off, my chair is broken and maintenance can’t get round to fixing it until tomorrow. Plus my thigh’s now sore.” Serena’s rant comes a screeching halt as she stops for breath. Bernie strokes the back of Serena’s hand with her thumb.

“We’ve got this.” she says smiling at Serena. “You figure out what tests bed five needs, I’ll get them ordered. Then I’ll find Ric, fill him in and give him the discharge list to deal with. I’ll call Jason back for you and see if I can help – or at least find out what it is that’s worrying him. That should leave you free to go and see what Hanssen wants.”

“Are you sure?” asks Serena, not sure she can believe her luck.

“Course.” replies Bernie. “I might not work here, but I can still have your back. You might be more comfortable in the other chair though.” Bernie notes as she looks at the now ridiculously short chair Serena is sat on. “I assume that the spanner is part of a failed repair attempt?”

“It was.” says Serena as Bernie stands and helps her to her feet in turn. “Couldn’t quite get enough pressure on it at the right angle. My fingers seem to have lost some of their flexibility. Perhaps I shouldn’t have given up knitting.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed a lack of dexterity?” Bernie responds with a wicked grin.

“Let’s just say I was inspired.” Serena offers in retort.

“Well, the sooner you get inspired by bay five’s blood tests, the sooner I can whisk you off to the barn.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“All the essentials are packed and in my car - as well as a few extras, so we can head off as soon as we’re done here.”

“Did you remember...” starts Serena, but gets no further before Bernie interjects.

“Yes, I packed Shiraz. Six bottles, just to be on the safe side.”

Serena pops a chaste kiss on Bernie’s lips, murmurs ‘You’re perfect’ before collecting the patient notes she had been working on from her desk. Making her way to the other desk in the office she squeezes far too close to Bernie, and certainly much closer than necessary, as she passes.

“Playing dirty Ms Campbell?” Bernie says with amusement dancing in her eyes.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Serena’s response flashes back; her face schooled into a picture perfect expression of innocence.

Both women burst into laughter, dissipating the suddenly heavy atmosphere in the room.

“Right,” says Bernie “You need to focus on that patient file – and I’m going to help you.” she declares.

“Oh?” questions Serena, eyebrow raised.

“Umm.” say Bernie as she steps towards the door and puts her hand on handle. “I’m going to get you a coffee.” and blows her partner a kiss as she steps out onto the ward. Serena allows herself a grin before focusing on her file again.

 

By the time Bernie has returned with a wonderfully hot and strong coffee Serena has identified the appropriate tests for bed five and is able to hand Bernie the folder in exchange for the steaming beverage.

“I’m on a roll” she explains. “I’m going to take this with me to see Hanssen. Thanks” she adds as she heads off towards the lift, coffee in hand, leaving a slightly bemused Bernie smiling in her wake.

 

It’s a good hour before Serena is able to make her way back to her office and collapse into the seat opposite her own. She decides to take advantage of the empty office and snatch five minutes of peace and quiet to digest the rather unexpected news Hanssen has just given her. Except she doesn’t get it. It turns out the office isn’t as empty as she had thought it was. It’s the rather loud yelp coming from under the desk that gives it away. Realising she recognises the voice she calls out,  
“Bernie?”

There’s a bang, followed by a few choice words before Bernie’s head pops up from beneath the other side of the desk, complete with rubbing hand and pained expression.

“What are you doing under there?” asks Serena, her gast well and truly flabbered.

“Fixing your chair.” Bernie says, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“And the yelp of pain was?”

“Me getting my fingers caught between the spanner and the nut.” Bernie waves the spanner in front of her as if offering proof.

“And the bang?”

“Ah, yes, well, that was when you called my name. Couldn’t hear you come in down here so you made me jump. Hit my head.”

“Are you alright?” asked Serena, concerned.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine.” Bernie answers blithely

“And my chair?”

“Fixed” proclaims Bernie, and proceeds to smugly prove it by settling herself comfortably on it. “I found Ric. He’s done the discharges and he’s sorted out the bloods for bed five.” Bernie adds.

“That’s great, thank you.” Serena says, with genuine relief. “and Jason? Did you manage to get hold of him? Did you find out what he wanted?”

“Yes, yes I did. He needs someone to look after Guinevere for an hour or so on Thursday. I knew you were working, but I’m not, so I offered to have her. You don’t mind?”

“Of course I don’t mind. Bernie. You’re family. If I can’t do it myself there’s no one else I’d trust more.”

Bernie beams with pleasure and says  
“I’ll text Jason later and tell him that Guinevere and I have a date with the swings. It’s her new favourite thing to do I’m told”

“Your poor back!”

“More than worth it.” Bernie states leaving Serena less than convinced.

“So,” says Bernie – attempting off hand and casual but not quite pulling it off. “Did you find out what Hanssen wanted?”

“Umm.” replied Serena. “It was very interesting. He thinks that AAU needs a Co-Lead again.”

“Really?” asks Bernie “Did he have anyone in mind?

“I think you know he did.” Serena says, looking directly at Bernie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bernie can feel a slight blush creeping up her cheeks. She takes a moment to gather herself before saying  
“We, that is Hanssen and I, thought it would be better coming from him. It would give you a chance to say no without it being quite so difficult, if you felt it wouldn’t be a good idea for us to work together again. I told him that it had to be your decision when he called me yesterday to discuss it. I didn’t want us, or me, to get in the way of your work. They’ll be other positions if you don’t...” Bernie tails off, unsure how her explanation has gone down. The confused look on Serena’s face is giving nothing away. 

Serena stands up, settles herself on the sofa and gestures to Bernie to join her. Bernie perches herself on the opposite end of the sofa. She leaves almost as much room between the two of them as the sofa will allow - like some kind of buffer against bad news. Undaunted Serena moves to sit closer to Bernie - and this time it’s Serena who takes Bernie’s hand and stokes it soothingly.

“Whilst I appreciate you wanting to let me make the decision myself, and not presenting me with a fait accompli, why did you think I wouldn’t want you working alongside me again?” she asks with concern.

“Lots of reasons: too many bad memories; I didn’t want you to think I didn’t trust you after Leah; it might be moving things too fast; you might want some space from me.” Bernie offers quietly and hesitantly.

“But, you’d like to?”

“Yes, I would.” Bernie says honestly.

“Well then. That simplifies things, because I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to lead this ward with you again.” Serena says smiling softly at Bernie.

“You’re sure?” Bernie replies uncertainly.

“Course.” Serena answers. “You’re not the only one who thinks we’ve spent too much time apart, and I reckon we’re far too old, and have been through far too much, to worry about moving too fast when an opportunity like this falls into our laps.” Serena smiles at Bernie, takes a breath and continues. “You know I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted this job so you could keep an eye on me. I would understand, but that’s not why you want it, is it?”

“No, it isn’t! I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I know” replies Serena fondly with a squeeze to Bernie’s hand. “You know some of the worst memories of my life revolve around this place; my Mother, Elinor. By rights, I ought to hate it, but I don’t. I don’t because some of the best memories of my life are here too; the people I’ve helped, the friends I’ve made - you. Those weeks after you came back from Kiev, and before Elinor - when we had the ward, the Trauma Unit, each other. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier, more truly ‘me’. You’ve just handed me a chance to have some of that again. I’d have to be a fool to pass up that opportunity - and despite recent behaviour I’m not that much of a fool.”

“So…” says Bernie questioningly

“So, I think you should tell Hanssen you’ll take the job.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely!” says Serena from the midst of the tight hug that Bernie has engulfed her in.

“Something else to celebrate this weekend then.” notes Bernie. “You won’t have to do this all yourself much longer.”

“You did promise me a weekend away, didn’t you?” Serena says, a wicked glint in her eye, as she breaks the embrace.

“I did.” replies Bernie as she stands up. “Our barn awaits. Chop chop Miss Campbell - there are bottles of wine in my boot that need to be drunk and they’re not going to do it themselves.”

“They’d better bloody not!” retorts Serena as she gets to her feet, grabs her bag and prepares to follow Bernie out of the door.


	6. Velvet and Sacrifice

Bernie speeds them out of Holby. The roads, for once, relatively traffic free. The city gives way to rolling expanses of countryside, trees loom on the horizon instead of housing estates and rivers replace the streams of cars. The further out of Holby they travel the lighter the atmosphere in the car becomes. Conversation flows more freely between the two women than it has for a while as they talk about the future: their future; the future of the ward that is once again going to be theirs; and their immediate future plans for the weekend in the barn.

They’ve been making good time and it’s only 45 minutes before Bernie says

“It should be just round here...” and, as she turns the corner, the outline of a barn comes into view.

“It looks lovely” says Serena, as she tries and fails to stifles a yawn.

“Long day catching up with you?” asks Bernie as she pulls the car up in front of the barn.

“Something like that. I’m sorry. It really is lovely and I am very grateful it’s just..”

“You’re tired.” Bernie finishes for her. “I get it. Check under your seat.” Serena unclips her seat belt, leans forward and reaches under her seat. Her fingers brush against a gift bag, which she clasps and pulls out. She shoots a confused look at Bernie as she removes the contents: a single glass bottle of Shiraz; a scented candle; and a rather nice, and obviously very expensive, vial of bath oils.

“I guessed you’d probably be tired, so I thought you might like to have a soak in the bath whilst I unpack and make dinner?”

“Sounds perfect. Thank you.” Serena replies leaning over and kissing her partner warmly before getting out of the car.

“How exactly do we get in?” Serena asks as they walk towards the barn door.

“I believe the usual method is to use a key.”

“Very droll. Shame we don’t have a one.”

“I thought of that.” says Bernie as she stoops to pick up the flowerpot on the doorstep. Reaching underneath it she retrieves a silver key and waves it triumphantly in the air. “Right where I was told it would be. Not the most original hiding place, but..”

“Well? What are you waiting for then clever cloggs? Get the door open!”

 

An hour later Serena is stretched out lazily in a warm bath. It had been steaming hot when she’d got in, but the warmth, relaxing scent, and glass of Shiraz she’d drunk had caused her to drift off into a light sleep. The cooling bath water had started to rouse her, but what has finally brought her fully back to wakefulness is the smell drifting up from what she assumes must be the kitchen. The scent of jasmine, rose and vanilla that had filled the steam the piping hot bath had given off, had dissipated - to be replaced by a much more appetising smell. Breathing deeply Serena thinks she can make out something herby and enticing, a deep tomato undertone and a wonderful richness.

The aroma soon reminds Serena that it’s been a long time since the rather insipid sandwich she had managed to grab for lunch. Stepping out of the bathtub she wraps herself in the frankly luxurious bath towel that has been provided and heads off to the bedroom.

The bedroom is every bit as decadent as it looked in the pictures Bernie had shown her. The bed is large, the mattress soft, the pillows fluffy and the duvet and bedspread cosy.

Their clothes have been hung up, the rest of their luggage has been organised and put tidily away. Their cases have been stowed neatly in the corner. Serena can see that Bernie has not only been busy, but has made a concerted effort for her. Bernie’s approach to unpacking is usually not to bother and just live out of the suitcase. If she can be persuaded to actually unpack the effect is never neat and tidy, more ‘aftermath of a storm’. Serena smiles as she sees that Bernie has even gone as far as to lay her pyjamas out on the bed for her. Pausing only briefly to appreciate the gesture she dries herself off, pulls on the pyjamas, matching dressing gown and slippers, and wastes no time heading downstairs to investigate the appetizing smell.

Serena finds Bernie in the snug. She’s been hard at work here too. The log burning fire is crackling with life and giving out a very welcome heat. An open bottle of Shiraz is standing on a side table, two full glasses flanking it. The rest of the room is dotted with lit candles giving out a soft, gentle light. The light from the candles and fire is more than enough for Serena to see that Bernie is not sitting on the sofa. Instead she’s on the floor, leant against the front of the sofa, surrounded by plump cushions scattered on fluffy blankets. She looks, Serena thinks, like a rare and exotic bird in a warm and cosy nest. Her eyes are closed and her head is tilted back slightly to rest on the sofa leaving her neck exposed. Exposed just enough to make Serena struggle to stop herself planting kisses along the length of it. But she manages to control herself. No matter how inviting Bernie looks, she can’t bring herself to spoil the moment, because Bernie looks so peaceful - more peaceful than Serena can remember her looking for a long time. Instead of disturbing her, Serena leans against the door frame, gazes at Bernie and drinks in the sight.

Bernie hadn’t been asleep, she’d merely been resting her eyes and enjoying the warmth and coziness of the snug. She’d felt the disturbance of the air as Serena had padded quietly in her slippers to the doorway and caught the hint of Jasmine and vanilla wafting towards her. As she became aware that the footsteps had stopped she'd opened her eyes and turned her head towards Serena to say hello. The word died in her suddenly dry mouth as she caught sight of Serena leaning against the door frame.

The flickering light was dancing over Serena as she stood in the doorway; making her face, already rosy from the warmth of the bath, glow bewitchingly. It rendered her silk dressing gown and pyjamas ( a deep ‘Trauma Unit Scrubs’ blue) iridescent. The angle Serena was leaning at caused the fabric to gently tug over the tops of her legs, pulling it tightly enough for Bernie to see the shape of her thigh beneath; enticingly round and generous. Bernie could almost feel their smoothness wrapped around her and their surprising strength when they thrust against her. Serena’s open dressing gown hung loosely from her shoulders, catching slightly on her hip. The deep shadows cast by candles highlighted the curve of her hip, and emphasised the dip of her waist. It made Bernie long to run her fingers over every inch of gentle slope and soft expanse and feel how perfect a fit they were for her hands. Serena’s head was resting against the door frame, and it had caused the deep V of her pyjama top to slip slightly down one shoulder, revealing the soft swell of the top of her pale breast against the dark shadow of the hint of exposed cleavage. Bernie watched, mesmerised, as the material shifted and danced against Serena’s chest with every breath, exposing and hiding all at once. Bernie could almost feel the weight of those breasts cupped in her hands and could definitely feel the increase of her heartbeat and deepening breath betraying the first stirring of arousal within her. She didn’t think she had ever seen anyone who looked as beautiful and alluring as Serena did. It’s Serena who breaks the silence first - more than aware of the effect that her appearance has had on Bernie.

“I do hope,” she says, in low sensuous tones as she pads, hips swaying, towards Bernie “that one of those glasses is for me.”

Wordlessly Bernie offers one of the glasses to Serena, who sinks to the floor next to her and accepts it gratefully. Taking a deep sip Serena lets out a low moan of appreciation, which does nothing to quell the arousal growing in Bernie.

"Do you feel better after your bath?" Bernie manages, with great effort.

"Umm. Much better." Serena replies “What is that delicious smell?” she asks. 

“That’s dinner.” replies Bernie.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been cooking as well?” 

“I could.” replies Bernie “But it would be a lie. It’s take away from our favourite little Italian.” 

“But they don’t do take away.” points out Serena.

“Well, it seems they do if it’s for you.”

“I’m sorry?” Serena replies, confused.

“Do you remember the nice woman who served us last time we ate there. The one I thought liked you?”

“Yes, but I don’t see…”

“When I went to ask at the restaurant if they could make me something to bring with us for dinner tonight it was her I spoke to. Turns out that she’s studying to be a chef and Italian food is one of her specialities. She offered to make something that I could just reheat when we arrived - seeing as it was for one of her favourite customers. I think you have a fan.”

“I didn’t encourage her, you know.” Serena adds with a hint of worry in her tone. 

“I know. It’s fine. I don’t think you needed to do anything other than be you. I can’t honestly say I blame her.” replies Bernie her eyes surveying Serena’s body nestled against the sofa front next to her.

“Well, however you managed to acquire it, it smells delicious.”

“Is that a hint?” Bernie asks teasingly.

“Most definitely” confirms Serena. “I need to keep my energy up.” She shoots Bernie a look deep with meaning. The message arrives loud and clear with Bernie, who blushes in the half light. Jumping to her feet she says,

“Can’t have you fainting away on me. You stay here, I’ll go and get dinner.” Serena watches Bernie as she leaves the room, takes a long sip of her wine, leans back contentedly, and settles happily down to wait.

 

About ten minutes later Bernie returns to the snug. She’s changed into her pyjamas. Whilst they’re not as silky or outrightly seductive as Serena’s, the soft cotton of her trousers emphasises her long slim legs, the fitted t-shirt top moulds itself to her curves, it’s v neck dipping down to hint at cleavage. It takes Serena, who has been rather distracted by the sight of Bernie, a few moments to pick up on the scent coming from the tray Bernie is carrying. The tray is laden with plates, cutlery and an additional bottle of wine. Right in the centre is a steaming dish giving off a tantalising aroma.

“That smells wonderful.” Serena acknowledges, breathing in deeply.

“It’s Parmigiana di Melanzane.” Bernie explains as she places the tray on the coffee table, sits herself back down next to Serena and picks up a fork. Scooping up a generous portion of the dish she brings the fork to Serena’s lips and says “Try some.” Serena’s mouth opens just wide enough for Bernie to feed her the morsel. 

Bernie slips the fork and it’s contents between her partners lips and Serena’s eyes flicker shut. Serena savours the taste for a moment before letting out a noise of pure pleasure - which Bernie thinks would be much better suited to the bedroom. Making a valiant effort to control the effect Serena is having on her she grabs the plates and serves them both generous portions of food. 

If Bernie had thought that eating would calm what was rapidly becoming a heated atmosphere between them, she was very wrong. Very wrong. She hadn’t realised that having dinner could be such a sensual experience. She’d seen Nigella, of course she had. Who wasn’t aware of her particular style of presenting? Watching the way that Serena, sitting next to her in the blanket and cushion nest, was approaching her food - the sheer eroticism she was imbuing each bite with - Bernie was becoming more and convinced that it was her partner who had taught Nigella all she knew. And that Nigella still had a lot to learn from her!

“That” said Serena “was absolutely delicious” as she flicked her tongue out to catch a drop of the tomatoey sauce clinging to the corner of her lip, making Bernie swallow hard. “Tell me, did my trainee chef friend provide us with desert - or do we have to fend for ourselves?” she asks with raised eyebrow. Bernie reaches for the white card box, the last item remaining on the tray, and opens it. Proffering it to Serena she says

 

“Red velvet cake and chocolate sauce”

Serena reaches a hand out towards the cake, dips a finger in the thick icing, and scoops up enough to cover her fingertip. Eyes firmly fixed on Bernie she brings her finger back to her lips, puts out her tongue and slowly, in a single move, licks the rich, sweet substance off. The whole action is so thoroughly indecent Bernie has to forcefully remind herself to breathe. 

“You have to try this.” Serena says to Bernie. Before she can react Serena has dipped her finger back into the icing and is holding it, and it’s load of gooey goodness, up to Bernies lips. It’s an instinctive action, certainly Bernie hadn’t consciously decided to do it, but she finds she’s opened her mouth. Before she knows it Serena’s finger is resting on her lips and her mouth is full of the flavour of sweet vanilla. It would have taken a stronger person than Bernie to resist sucking that finger clean. When Serena’s finger leaves Bernie’s mouth with a scarcely audible “pop” Bernie has force herself to slow her breathing down.

Serena turns away from Bernie, picks up a fork and spears a piece of the cake. Bernie thinks a moment to gather her thoughts is just what she needs, but she doesn’t get it. Almost as soon as Serena puts the cake in her mouth her eyes clamp shut, her face contorts in pleasure and she lets out one of the most indecent whimpers Bernie can ever remember hearing. The sound mounts a full scale attack on Bernie’s remaining self control, which barely survives. 

“You need to have some of this.” she says enthusiastically to Bernie “it’s positively sinful!” she virtually purs. Obediently Bernie opens her mouth again and allows Serena to fill it. She’s absolutely right, the cake is delicious. It’s rich and moist and positively melts in the mouth. If the look Serena was giving her wasn’t so very distracting Bernie thinks she’d be able make a coherent comment about how nice it is, but Serena’s looking at her with eyes dark with pleasure and all Bernie can manage is a rather waivery ‘umm’ of agreement.

Serena reaches for the cake again. This time she breaks a piece off with fingers and thumb and pops it into her smiling mouth. A fragment of cake slips from her fingers and tumbles down the front of her pyjama top to nestle deep between her breasts. Casually, as if barely conscious of her actions, Serena undoes the highest button of her top, dampens her finger with her lips, and reaches down to her now almost fully exposed cleavage. Scooping up the rogue piece of cake with her finger she pops both in her mouth. 

The sight is too much for Bernie’s self control. She looks into Serena’s eyes and sees desire burning there, mirroring her own. All her good intentions of romance and seduction go up in smoke as they meet the growing heat of her arousal. Realising that she’s not the only one who’s had seduction in mind this evening - and that she has very much been out played - she internally concedes defeat and gives herself up to the inevitable. 

Leaning closer to Serena she threads her fingers through hair at the nape of her neck and brings their mouths together in a deep, prolonged kiss. It’s passionate, sensual and full of tenderness. She can feel Serena responding, leaning into the kiss and matching the movements of her tongue and mouth. Serena’s hands are clutching Bernie’s shoulders, drawing her closer, and Bernie doesn’t resist. 

For all the length of time they’ve been a couple, the opportunities to be together, to be properly blissfully and gloriously together, have been very few and far between. It’s never seemed more of a sacrifice to Bernie than it does at this moment. 

Mouths still locked together in hungry, demanding, exploration, Bernie slowly pushes Serena down until she is reclining against the pillows, Bernie crouching over her. Serena breaks away from the kiss, and says, in slightly faltering sultry tone.

“I’m disappointed. You promised me chocolate sauce.” Bernie’s desire darkened eyes momentarily light up with a flash of pure wickedness.

“What my lady wants, my lady gets.” Bernie replies. Unhurriedly and purposefully Bernie swings her leg over Serena’s hips, effectively pinning her to the floor as she settles there. She leans backwards, arching her spine and causing her t-shirt to ride up and expose a swathe of soft, inviting abdomen, which she knows Serena’s eyes will be fixed on. As Bernie grasps the small container of chocolate sauce from the tray, she can hear the soft hiss from Serena as it dawns on her what Bernie is planning.

Returning herself to a sitting position Bernie places the chocolate sauce to one side and turns her attention to the two buttons that remain fastened on Serena’s pyjama top - making a valiant effort to hold it closed. Bernie slowly and deliberately relieves them of their task as she undoes them with deft fingers and, one side at a time, brushes the silky material from Serena’s chest - leaving it pooling at her sides, and Serena gloriously on show. Bernie takes her time and lets her eyes meander over the delectable sight before her. She can see Serena’s breathing speed up, can see the flush of arousal appear in the apex of her chest and spread out to cover her breasts and nipples. She swears she can see Serena’s nipples darken and harden as she gazes at them, for all the world as if it had been her fingers or tongue touching them and not just her gaze. Having looked her fill for the moment, Bernie retrieves the tub of chocolate sauce from her side. As she removes the lid she’s sure she feels Serena’s breath stutter.

Bernie dips her finger into the dark, semi liquid, goodness and swirls it round before withdrawing it covered and dripping in chocolate sauce. Leaning forward and holding her hand over Serena’s chest she lets droplets of liquid chocolate fall from her finger and land on Serena’s pale skin laid out before her. Almost casually she turns and twists her finger in the air, changing the series of drops to a thin drizzled trail and back as the mood takes her. 

Every time Bernie turns to the tub, and brings her finger out oozing with fresh chocolate sauce, she makes sure the movement comes from her hips. Grinding teasingly against Serena, she gives her hints and tastes of the friction she is craving. When Bernie leans forward so she can reach to a fresh, unspoilt, area of Serena to cover with chocolate she makes sure she rocks her hips. It’s not an overt or powerful movement, but it’s enough for Serena to register, to feel, to subconsciously try to reciprocate with her own hips. 

Bernie’s concentration on Serena, and what she is doing to her, is intense to the point of reverence. It’s like she’s creating a work of art. Serena’s chest is covered with loops, swirls and trails of chocolate, broken up with deep pools of the thick liquid. Bernie has paid special attention to her favourite places. There are pools of molten chocolate gathered in the dips in Serena’s clavicles, trails of meandering lines along her cleavage and her hard nipples have been criss crossed with so many delicate threads they look like they’ve been covered in a gossamer chocolate spiders web. 

Being the subject of Bernie’s concerted focus is a heady experience and charged with eroticism. Serena is fighting every instinct she has to keep herself still under Bernie’s ministrations, though she finds there’s nothing she can do to stop the involuntary twitching of her hips, seeking more, as her desire for the woman straddling her rises. At this rate, Serena thinks (surprised she’s still capable of rational thought), she’s going to melt before the chocolate sauce does and it won’t be anything to do with the menopause.

Finally, finally, Bernie sits back, and gazes long and hard at the woman laying beneath her considering her carefully. It seems she’s satisfied with what she sees and her chocolate covered finger finds its way, almost absent mindedly, to her mouth 

With a fluid movement Bernie crosses her arms, grips the hem of her T-Shirt top, pulls it swiftly over her head and discards it behind her. Framed above Serena in the cosy candle light her soft skin, gently tanned from her time in the African sun, glows. Serena wants to drink the sight in slowly, take in every curve and dip, from the flat expanse of her stomach to the gentle swell of her perfectly formed breasts; from the notch at the base of her neck to the raised scar that bisects her chest. Before she’s had a chance look anywhere near enough Bernie leans back over her and her tongue is on Serena’s stomach and Serena is lost in a world of sensation. 

It’s not just Bernie’s tongue on Serena, she’s using her lips too, and the whole of her mouth. Bernie’s not just licking the sauce off Serena’s torso, she’s swirling her tongue around it in, kissing, sucking, biting and even spelling out words of love on Serena’s skin. She works her way, encouraged by the moans and gasps coming from her partner, from the start of the trail of chocolate just above the waistband of Serena’s pyjama bottoms over her stomach, up one breast, across and in an out of her collarbone, and back down the other side ending up almost where she began. There’s nothing hurried or rushed about what Bernie is doing, it’s slow and sensuous. She’s paying particular attention to the places that drive Serena wild, the spot just inside the flare of her hip has been lavished with care and Serena’ nipples have been sucked, stroked and teased into hardness. Bernie has been stoking Serna’s desire pushing the flames higher and higher until she’s not sure if she can take anymore, or if she could stand Bernie stopping. 

Then Bernie’s weight is gone from her hips and the feel of her mouth is gone from her body. They are replaced by the feel of Bernie’s hands taking the waistband of her silk trousers and pulling them, and her underwear, gently down her legs and off - leaving them pooled by Serena’s feet. Bernie takes up a new position kneeling, between Serena’s legs. From here she can see the effort Serena is making to control her ragged breath, can see the slight quivers that interrupt the state of tension she’s holding her body in, can see that Serena’s head is tilted back, her eyes shut. Everything about her screams arousal. 

The idea that she is the one responsible for the state Serena is in hits Bernie like a shot of adrenaline, and her own breath falters. ‘I did this’ she thinks in wonderment as a fresh surge of desire rises within her.

Bernie’s not finished with Serena yet. She brings her mouth down to meet the inside of Serena’s thigh and kisses the sensitive delicate skin. Criss crossing from one thigh to the other as she goes Bernie methodically makes her way higher and higher, Serena’s legs spreading welcomingly as she does. 

The higher Bernie gets up Serena’s thighs, the clearer it gets just how turned on Serena is. If the whimpers and gasps coming from Serena weren’t enough of a give away Bernie can see the evidence glistening in the dark curls at the junction of her thighs. Even the air Bernie is breathing is thick with the scent of Serena’s arousal. 

When, after it’s painstaking progress up Serena’s thighs, Bernie’s mouth reaches her center, the first touch of her tongue causes a hiss of pleasure to come from Serena, but that’s nothing compared to the sounds she makes when Bernie’s tongue works its way into her folds.

Bernie is barely aware of the noises coming from Serena above her. She’s barely aware of anything but the way Serena feels on her tongue. She’s soft and swollen, wet and warm and Bernie thinks she could lose herself here, doing this. Slowly, almost lazily Bernie’ tongue and mouth explore, playing around her entrance, sucking gently (and not so gently) on her lips and flicking and teasing at her clit. Bernie could spend hours here, tasting, feeling and exploring. She never wants this to stop and yet, and yet, she can feel the way Serena is moving: the way she can’t help her hips are gently pushing her into Bernie chasting more, the way her stomach muscles are rippling as she struggles to keep still, the way her hands are grasping tight to the blanket beneath her in an attempt to anchor herself, that she’s close to the edge. 

When Bernie hears Serena call out her name in positively smouldering tones it’s like a switch flips in Bernie and it’s her new purpose in life to make this wonderful woman fall apart around her. Shifting slightly to a better position she begins a concerted attack on Serena, alternating long slow strokes of her tongue over her clit with flicks designed to torment, and drawing tight teasing circles. When Serena’s hand flies to Bernie’s head and tangles in her dishevelled curls, Bernie knows that it won’t take much. She starts gently sucking on Serena’s clit, slowly increasing the pressure until Serena’s body goes taught and she lets out the most erotic groan Bernie has ever heard as she orgasms. Bernie savours every flutter and twitch as she gentles Serena through her orgasm and down the other side. When, finally Serena stills, her hips settling on the floor, her body almost molten, her groans and whimpers of pleasure replaced by deep shaky breaths Bernie crawls up her body so they are face to face. Bernie plants a kiss on Serena’s lips, and Serena can taste her own juices mixed with chocolate in a heady combination.

Rolling off from above Serena Bernie settles on her back at her side, and for a few minutes they lay there, content just to be with each other in the afterglow, and to catch their breath. Bernie eventually turns to Serena and says ruefully

“I don’t think I’m ever going to be able to go back to that Italian restaurant. Every time I see that poor girl I’m going to be reminded of what we did with the food she made us.”

Serena turns so she is facing Bernie and, with pure wickedness glinting in her eyes says.

“If we’re not going to be able to return to one of our favourite places, we should at least make sure the sacrifice is worth while.” and she leans over Bernie and picks up the tub of chocolate sauce. Bernie moans as she realises Serena is about to give just as good as she got.

I should at least make sure I tell her how very much we enjoyed her chocolate sauce Serena thinks to herself, before she gets thoroughly distracted by Bernie and the task in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Regency - without whose cheer leading this wouldn't have happened!


	7. Equal and Laughter

The bed was every bit as soft as it had looked in the pictures, but that wasn’t why they had stayed in it until almost 11am. The mattress was firm and sturdy, without being too hard (Bernie and Serena had tested it thoroughly after they had decamped to bed from the snug) but neither was that the reason they hadn’t emerged until mid morning. To be honest, the quality and luxuriousness of the bed hadn’t been uppermost in their minds when they’d fallen on it late the night before, nor when they’d woken up relatively early that morning and conducted further rigorous testing. What had driven them out of the warm clutches of the soft duvet was their growing need for coffee, and their desire for breakfast.

It was their increasing hunger that had driven them to the kitchen, having paused only to don the white fluffy dressing gowns thoughtfully provided. Serena had taken charge of the important task of figuring out the top of the range coffee machine and persuading it to produce strong hot coffees. Bernie had made herself responsible for feeding them and, after having spent some time delving through the bags she’d left on the kitchen counter the previous night, was considering the oven in front of her carefully.

Companionable silence reigned as both women focused on their tasks. It wasn’t long before the welcome smell of coffee filled the room. Soon after that Serena picked up on another, almost as welcome, aroma coming from the oven.

“Can I smell what I think I can?” she asks Bernie.

“If you mean pain au chocolat,” replies Bernie “then yes you can. Purely medicinal.” she adds.

“Well you were the one who opened two bottles of wine last night, I would be thoroughly justified in blaming you.” Serena notes, voice full of mock seriousness.

“You didn’t have to drink it.” Bernie retorts, half smiling.

“Please don’t tell me I could have ordered by the glass!” Serena laughs “I very much hope you know me better than that by now.”

“Lets just say we’re equally guilty.” Bernie proposes with a broad grin and a gentle laugh. The look of indignation this comment brings to Serena’s face causes Bernie’s laugh to morph into a full blown attack of the giggles, which in turn makes Serena drop her faux offended facade in favour of gales of laughter.

When their laughter subsides enough for speech, Bernie says her voice now serious.  
“I’ve missed this, us laughing together. We never got to do it much, did we?”

“No we didn’t.” Serena agrees wistfully. “We never really got the chance. So much happened so soon after we realised how we felt about each other, and then there were the distances...” with an almost visible shake of her head Serena lifts the mood of the conversation “Still, when we did laugh, we really laughed. Do you remember Mr Bliss?”

“Oh good grief! How could I forget?” Bernie says as she ducks into the oven and brings out a tray of pain au chocolat and decants them onto a plate.

“Did we ever find out exactly how he impaled himself on that tap?” Serena asks, placing the steaming coffee’s on the table in the kitchen.  
“I think we decided it was better not to get the specifics.” Bernie recalls, as they both take a seat.

“One of the wisest decisions we’ve made I think. I’ll never get over poor Fletch’s face when Mr Bliss complained of running hot and cold.”

“I was glad of having an office to retreat to!” says Bernie, pulling a pastry onto the plate in front of her.

“It wouldn’t have been very professional if we’d both started laughing in front of him as well.”

“We wouldn’t have been able to settle who was going to treat him by arm wrestling at the nurses station either.” notes Bernie “and you might not have forgiven me for being less than honest.”

“Oh, I think I would. I never can stay mad at you for long.” Serena remarks smiling at Bernie. Bernie looks down and picks at her breakfast.

“You know, we are going to have to talk about us at some point this weekend” she says quietly.

Serena reaches over and rests her hand on Bernie’s arm.  
“I do know, but not just yet. Us here, together, just us, it’s too perfect and I don’t want it to end quite yet.”

“Ok” says Bernie, with a deep inhalation of breath, “Different question. Who’s going to tidy up the snug.”

“Well I wasn’t the one who started messing about with chocolate sauce!” Serena reminds Bernie with a raised eyebrow.

“You certainly didn’t hold back once it was your turn.” Bernie retaliates with a smug expression, and Serena softens at the sight.

“Lets just say we might have been equally responsible.” she suggests.

“I can live with that.” agrees Bernie readily. “So who is going to clean up in there? Serena isn’t fast enough to stop the glint of mischief that flickers across her eyes before she says

“I’ll arm wrestle you for it”

“No!” Bernie almost drawls. “Didn’t we settle that once and for all some while ago?”

“Well,” Serena says with a shrug, “If you’re scared I’ll beat you again...”

“Oh, no you don’t Campbell. You’re on”. Bernie challenges, her competitive spirit pushing its way to the fore, as Serena had known it would. Serena carefully and deliberately settles her elbow on the table in front of her, raises her hand, leans forward, flicks her eyes up to look directly at Bernie and says “Perhaps I should give you a chance this time.” she says slowly. “Best of three?”

Bernie positions herself on her chair so she is directly opposite Serena. She drops her elbow to the tabletop, brings her eyes up to meet Serena’s and says  
“Ready when you are.”

They bring their hands together, entwine their fingers and try to push to the back of their minds the sparks that flew between them the last time they did this.

Both women are fairly evenly matched, although it’s true that Bernie probably still has a slight edge over Serena, despite her Army days being far behind her. Both of them are very determined, the tension in which they are holding themselves is evident, the tautness in their arm muscles visible as the both grip hard and hold themselves in readiness.

“On my count of three?” asks Serena.

“Of course.” responds Bernie.

“Three. Two. One. Go!” declares Serena immediately bracing her arm against the pressure Bernie is bringing to bear on it. For a while the edge switches from one woman to the other, neither of them quite able to push their advantage, or their opponents arm, all the way home. Faces strained and beginning to turn red it seems that it’s going to be a draw, except neither woman is willing to admit defeat. Eventually Bernie’s stamina gives her just the leverage she needs, and as Serena begins to struggle, Bernie is able to maintain the steady pressure she needs to bring Serena’s hand to rest on the table top.

“One nill to me I think!” Bernie declares triumphantly.

“Still got another two rounds to go, remember.” Serena replies, with a slight huff.

“Bring it on Campbell!” enthuses Bernie.

Serena shakes the tension out of her arm, gathers herself, and places her hand back in Bernie’s waiting one. This time she locks eyes with Bernie and holds her gaze whilst Bernie counts them down from three. Bernie’s eyes remain locked on Serena’s as she increases the pressure. Bernie can feel Serena’s arm start to give way, and a grin starts to appear on her face as she realises that she’s going to win this round too. She can see how much effort her partner is putting into winning, can see the concentration etched on her face. But she can also see Serena’s tongue dart out of the corner of her mouth and lick her lips. Ostensibly it’s an act of deep concentration, but Serena has managed to imbue the action with so much sensuality that Bernie’s brain refuses point blank to register anything else. Bernie’s brain freeze lasts just long enough for Serena to slam her suddenly relaxed arm on the table top.

“One all. Now we’re equal!” Serena crows. Bernie, now her mind has been snapped out of it’s momentary stupor, opens her mouth to raise a protest about Serena’s underhand tactics, but Serena is wearing a face of such total innocence that she immediately closes it again. Could she have imagined Serena’s intentions? Possibly, but the moment to react with righteous indignation has passed. Bernie decides to focus on winning the deciding bout.

As hands rejoin and Serena counts them down, Bernie concludes that her best tactic for winning is to avoid Serena’s eyes. She drops her gaze lower, and realises that, not only is she now staring straight at Serena’s chest, but the sides of her gown seem significantly further apart than they had been a few moments ago – and there is most definitely a larger expanse of enticing, soft, creamy white chest on display than there had been previously. It take a great act of will for Bernie to focus enough to keep her arm steady, but she manages it. A rapid recalculation persuades Bernie that her best chance at victory is to keep her eyes firmly shut.

At first her new tactic seems to be working. Her arm is steady again and she can feel that Serena’s is starting to succumb to the relentless pressure Bernie is applying. Bernie’s hard won concentration is disturbed by the sound of Serena shifting slightly in her seat and a sensation of something brushing faintly against her leg. She pushes the awareness aside and attempts to keep her focus on the slow and steady approach that seem to be winning her the bout. The sensation of something brushing her leg comes again, this time it’s more than fleeting. The third time it happens it’s too firm and certain to be accidental, and it’s moved higher up her leg. It’s not a touch any longer it’s more of a caress. Bernie eye’s fly open, and meet Serena’s which are an absolute picture of innocence and concentration. Bernie would have thought she was imagining it, but she could feel the touch becoming firmer and firmer and travelling higher and higher up the insides of her thighs. It slowly dawns on Bernie that it’s Serena’s foot. She doesn’t think much more after that, as the foot, now at the top of her thighs – which she has allowed to fall open without any conscious decision – begins to massage the soft flesh. Bernie finds that it’s all she can do to keep her arm upright amidst the sensations coursing through her body. She gives it a dam good try until Serena catches her eye again. The deep pool of desire Bernie can see there sends a tremor through her and her arm trembles. It’s a serious tremble, but Bernie would have recovered from it. Would have, if Serena’s foot hadn’t brushed almost idly - but definitely deliberately and firmly- against the rapidly dampening hair at the apex of her thighs. The contact sends a jolt through Bernie, her concentration is blown and Serena slams her arm to the deck.

Before Bernie has a chance to process what just happened Serena has jumped to her feet triumphantly and crossed the small gap between them. The cry of ‘cheat’ that has started to form on Bernie’s lips is cut off as Serena drops to her knees in front of her and brings their mouths together. Bernie’s righteous indignation fades rapidly as Serena moans into the deepening kiss, flickering her tongue against Bernie’s. Any residual annoyance Bernie is feeling vanishes as Serena’s left hand slips into the top of her dressing gown, finds her nipple, and proceeds to roll it between finger and thumb. The sensations Serena is sending coursing through Bernie’s body are sufficient to force any thoughts of unfair play to the very back of her mind. When Serena’s right hand brushes up the inside of Bernie’s thigh and start to caress and stroke the already damp, coarse hair it finds at their junction, thoughts of fair play seem totally irrelevant. When Serena slips her finger inside slick wet folds and starts to tease and explore Bernie gives up on thinking altogether in favour of savouring every last feeling Serena is drawing out of her body.

Serena breaks the kiss, looks into Bernie’s eyes and sees desire pooled there. As the pad of her finger finds, and skirts teasingly over the very top of Bernie’s clit she feels Bernie’s whole body twitch.

Then, as suddenly as Serena had landed on her knees in front of Bernie, her hands vanish from Bernie’s body along with the rest of her. It takes a second or two for Bernie to come back to herself enough to realise that Serena is standing behind her.  
“Tease” she pouts, feeling the loss of Serena’s touch keenly.

“Oh no.” responds Serena in a dangerous voice as she leans forward and brings her mouth close to Bernie’s ear. “It’s only teasing if you don’t follow through; and I very much intend to do just that. As soon as you’ve cleaned up the snug.”

Turning her head Bernie sees the mischievous delight dancing in Serena’s eyes, and knows that she’s lost and doesn’t have the heart to offer any resistance.


End file.
